


Let It Unwind, See

by summerstorm



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-14
Updated: 2009-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The thing is, Quinn was trying to do the right thing, telling them the truth, and it's all blown up in her face, so when the hand dryer shuts off and Rachel hears someone sobbing in the last stall from the door, it's not hard to figure out who it might be.</em> Written pre-1.07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Unwind, See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "bathroom stall" at [](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink/profile)[**glee_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink/), with a bit of the prompt "Quinn's never had an orgasm before, and Rachel's only ever played this game by herself" thrown in because I like to steal ideas from people.

It doesn't take too long for Quinn's walls to crumble—both Finn and Puck have been almost obsessively nice to her in Glee rehearsals these past few weeks, and Rachel assumes they've also acted that way outside of rehearsals, so it's understandable that Quinn started to feel bad about lying and ended up telling Finn the truth. And then, somehow, the entire school found out, and then there was cheer practice and Santana practically threw Quinn off their pyramid—from what Rachel's heard, Quinn is lucky she's still alive—because Puck was still dating Santana when he supposedly impregnated Quinn.

The thing is, Quinn was trying to do the right thing, telling them the truth, and it's all blown up in her face, so when the hand dryer shuts off and Rachel hears someone sobbing in the last stall from the door, it's not hard to figure out who it might be.

Rachel takes a few tentative steps towards the window, partly because she's not sure what she's supposed to do or even what she _wants_ to do here, and partly because sometimes crying is really distracting and the last thing anyone needs right now is for Quinn to have a heart attack.

The sobbing quiets down as she approaches, sure sign Quinn knows someone has heard, so Rachel takes a deep breath, trying to gather up the strength she'll need to convince Quinn to listen, and knocks gently on the door.

"Quinn?" she asks. She has to make an effort to hear Quinn now—there's some soft sniffing, a stifled whimper or two. "Quinn, say something."

"Go away," Quinn complies.

Rachel considers it, she really does. It's not like she and Quinn are _friends_. Quinn has been bearable, even occasionally nice to her lately, but her bump has started showing—soon she's going to have to stop wearing her cheerleader uniform—and Rachel wasn't bluffing when she told Quinn the kids in Glee were the only ones who wouldn't judge her, so Quinn may just be playing her cards wisely so she won't be friendless through her pregnancy.

It's also possible Quinn is beginning to _understand_ them, maybe even like them, and Rachel's not going to give up on that goal for a little bit of petty vengeance.

The knob gives easily when she leans onto it—Quinn either forgot or forwent locking the door.

"Last I heard 'go away' didn't mean 'please barge in uninvited'," Quinn says, looking up. Her eyes are glassy from crying, and the skin around them is a deep pink. Quinn's elbows have left oval marks over her knees—it looks like she's been here a while. Quinn's mouth attempts to mask that—the tight purse of her lips, the scowl and glare, it's obvious she's trying to intimidate Rachel, but she mostly looks desperate, like she could really use a hug.

So Rachel closes the door behind herself and offers her hand.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asks warily, like she wants to kick Rachel out but feels too curious or too drained or both to do it.

Rachel reaches for Quinn's forearm. "I'm making you feel better, come on," she says, pulling her up.

"I'm too tired to drag you out of here, you know," Quinn warns, not cooperating, so Rachel tugs harder until Quinn rises to her feet. "What?" she grumbles, and wow, this place is a lot smaller than Rachel had estimated. When Quinn speaks, Rachel feels the vibration all the way down to her stomach. It makes her automatically tilt her head up, and Quinn's face is right there—her lips swollen from biting into them, her cheeks flushed, mild circles under her eyes showing where she's rubbed the concealer off her skin.

"You're really pretty," Rachel blurts out. That wasn't what she was going to start with, but she figures it's as good as opening as any.

"Well, yeah. It hasn't really done me a lot of good lately."

"I know," Rachel says, "but that doesn't mean it's the only good thing about—I mean, you're also smart. And you're a great dancer. And I already told you you have a good voice. You're great, and great people always get over their rough patches and find new friends. And you did the right thing at the end, and people who do the right thing always get forgiven." She's not sure when she started whispering, but she is now, so low that Quinn's looking at her mouth like she might as well read the words off her lips.

"Rachel," Quinn says. It sounds like another warning, but not in a dangerous way.

"I'm serious," Rachel says, barely a breath, and then she's holding Quinn's arms and pinning her against the wall, the lines of red around the shoulders of her cheerleader uniform melting into the strip of red tiles behind her. "Believe me. I don't lie to boost anyone's ego."

And then she stands on her tiptoes and leans in, pressing her lips to Quinn's, softly enough to give Quinn room to say no, not that Quinn needs it. It's more that if it has to happen, Rachel would rather be told to leave than punched in the stomach. Even if the girl doing the punching is pregnant and tired and weak.

"Okay, I believe you," Quinn murmurs flatly against her lips. It sounds like the height of Quinn's ability to give in, and as soon as she's said it she kisses Rachel again, determined, like she's trying to pretend this was her idea and there was no acquiescence involved on her part.

Rachel can live with that. As long as they're pretending, they can pretend Rachel's hands got moved to Quinn's waist by Quinn herself, that Quinn asked for Rachel's fingers to probe under the top of her uniform, and her thumbs to rub soothing circles above her hipbones.

"What are you doing?" Quinn whispers again, this time more curious than wary.

"I already told you," Rachel says, kissing her between clauses, "I'm making you feel better," and she punctuates her words with a hand on Quinn's thigh, high enough to make her skirt ride up over Rachel's wrist.

"Oh," Quinn says in realization, deceitfully toneless, but she doesn't push Rachel away, so Rachel moves her hand further up Quinn's thigh, thumb sliding carefully towards the inside of it. Quinn shivers almost unnoticeably when Rachel hits cotton, and Rachel's free hand moves up to cup Quinn's breast, squeezing a little harder than she would have if her other hand wasn't moving between Quinn's legs, pressing up against the warm, damp fabric of her underwear.

Quinn lets out a whimper, head tipping back, and she masks it with a cough, like Rachel's going to think less of her if she lets go completely.

"Don't do that," Rachel murmurs, tracing the outline of Quinn's clit through her panties. "Don't cough. It's supposed to feel good. And no one's going to hear you but me." Because there's no one in the bathroom, and it hits Rachel that she probably shouldn't be doing this, if only because she's supposed to be responsible, and her Biology teacher didn't give her a pass so she could get Quinn Fabray off in a bathroom stall.

Quinn's eyelids look heavy when she glances down at Rachel, though, giving a barely perceptible nod before closing her eyes again, and it suddenly feels like the right thing again, doing this, if you don't take in the context.

That's all the prodding Rachel needs to reach for the waistband of Quinn's panties and yank them down, letting them fall and catch on Quinn's sneakers so they won't accidentally get kicked out of the stall.

It feels different now, strange to think she's going to do what she's about to. She's only ever done this to herself before, and she's not entirely sure how it's going to work for Quinn; she just hopes it'll relieve some of the pressure and not add sexual frustration to the mix. She hopes Puck was a one-time thing, because Rachel's not sure she can live up to that kind of competition—not that this is about her, because it's not. It's about Quinn.

She's worrying for nothing, though; when she slips her hand between Quinn's legs again, she's warm and pulsing and Rachel can feel her slick at the lightest brush of her fingertips, like she's been waiting forever. The thought alone makes Rachel squirm, remember that this isn't a favor, that she's thought about touching Quinn more than once, that she's thought about more than just touching Quinn, and she has to press her thighs together and shake her head, focus. She hates soaking through her underwear, but she's got other priorities right now.

Quinn shudders when Rachel spreads her open, says, "Your fingers are cold," and Rachel feels compelled to say she's sorry, but she doesn't pull back—they'll warm up quicker if she keeps rubbing them against Quinn, and the next sound Quinn makes isn't so much a complaint as a moan, one cut short by her teeth on her lower lip, and Rachel moves closer, letting one hand skate under Quinn's top, dragging it up over her bra and slipping inside to touch her, graze her nipples until Quinn's hissing and telling her to stop.

Rachel doesn't question it, just licks along Quinn's collarbone and nibbles her way up her neck, licking her chin at the same time the tips of her fingers zero in on her clit, start drawing tight circles. It's amazing how Quinn's whole body _vibrates_ at the pressure, how her breathing quickens and her hips jerk against Rachel's hand, making her go faster to match that rhythm.

"Told you it felt good," Rachel murmurs against Quinn's pulse point, and the next time Quinn takes a breath it sounds like she's tumbling down a hill, and just a few seconds later she's shuddering, her thighs shaking where Rachel can feel it, feel Quinn come apart with her eyes shut tight and her hands leaping onto Rachel's back, clutching at her shirt as her orgasm washes over Rachel's hand.

After a while Quinn opens her eyes again, frowning like she has no idea what just happened, and it's—understandable, really, Rachel thinks, since she's barely had time to absorb what she's done herself and it was her own idea, there's no way Quinn could have predicted it.

Rachel's thoughts slow down a bit, even focus. This is not about her. She steps back, gives Quinn some space. It's even easier to accept that when Quinn blinks, looks down at her feet to avert Rachel's gaze and actually mumbles something that sounds like _thanks_.

Rachel probably wasn't even supposed to hear it, but she nods anyway, and then the strangest thing happens—she's not sure if she looks stupid or ridiculous or just—somehow funny, but Quinn's mouth breaks into a small smile when she sees her, and for a moment it looks like yeah, this is not the time for Rachel to get _feelings_ for someone, and this isn't the kind of someone she should be getting feelings for, but maybe it's all right.

Maybe she's not alone in it.


End file.
